The Thing 3: Assimilation✔️

Chapter 09: In Darkness

"Great," Blake muttered as he looked around the room he'd come into.

The dark outline had resolved into a single shed, not unlike the one he'd come up in near the armory, though it was a bit larger. Clearly, it was meant as some kind of emergency survival shed. Unfortunately, from the look of the place, it had been ransacked. There was still a cot in one corner, at least, so Blake walked over to it and carefully laid Taylor out on it. The man was still unconscious. Blake hoped he hadn't fallen into a coma or something. He stood up and began checking out the small room for supplies.

There were some empty boxes, a vacant table, a kitchenette area, even a bathroom in the back with a toilet and sink. All of it had been cleaned out, but at least the toilet still worked. He relieved himself and then kept looking. In one of the corners, he found a hatch that led into the underground. Well...at least they had somewhere to go, not that it was exactly desirable. Blake went and checked Taylor over again. There was a gash on his forehead and his leg definitely looked broken. Sighing, Blake decided to get this next part over with while the guy was still passed out. After a bit of hunting, he managed to put together a makeshift splint.

He set the bone to the best of his ability and put the man's leg in the splint, then tied a makeshift headband around his wound out of some long-johns he'd found. From there, he decided to see what they actually had to work with. He took everything out of his pockets and set it out on a nearby table, then did the same with Taylor, patting the man down and inventorying his supplies. When he looked at the meager amount he'd gathered, he frowned. It wasn't much to work with. Worst of all, they no longer had a definitive way to kill any Thing beasts they came across. There was just an MP-5 with two spare magazines, a pistol with three spare magazines, a flashlight and a handful of shotgun shells that he'd managed to hang on to.

Taylor groaned, slowly coming awake.

Blake grabbed his MP-5, made sure it was fully loaded, then pocketed the remaining magazines for it, then slipped the flashlight into his front pocket and secured it.

"What happened...fuck, my leg," Taylor groaned.

"The chopper went down, I managed to get us to a shack. There's bad news and...less bad news. This place has been pretty much cleaned out, we've only got an MP-5 and a pistol between us, no flame-based weaponry, no test kits, no medical supplies, no radio and your leg is broken."

"Fucking fantastic...so what's the less bad news?" Taylor grunted.

"This leads back into the tunnels, so we're not technically stranded here."

"Shit."

"Yeah."

"And...double-shit, since we can't really test and I can't walk on my own. But if you were infected, you'd have infected me while I was unconscious. And I still feel like me...ugh."

"Yep. You ready to get started? Heading down that ladder is going to be a real bitch," Blake replied.

Taylor sighed and sat up. "Yeah, I've been through worse. I think."

Blake opened up the hatch and started heading down. He heard Taylor grunting in effort as he began making his way down. The good news was that it wasn't particularly high up off the floor. The bad news was that it led into the main tunnel that circled through this whole region. Where they would be most exposed. From up high, Blake surveyed the area. He saw a lot of debris, a lot of burned up crates, a few worrying areas of dark movement and, most important of all, a strong, bright light about twenty meters away, along the far wall.

"That's where we're going," he said to Taylor, indicating the bright area.

"Got it," he replied tightly.